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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131957">i'd lick the grief right off your lips</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/freefallvertigo/pseuds/freefallvertigo'>freefallvertigo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Eventual Smut, F/F, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Telepathy, Top!Thirteen, but she's a soft top, post TCC reunion, slight praise kink, the first thing thirteen does when she gets rescued is trim her nails no that isn't a joke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:29:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,062</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131957</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/freefallvertigo/pseuds/freefallvertigo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You look so real," whispered the Doctor.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"That's because I am."</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>182</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i'd lick the grief right off your lips</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>okay so without spoiling anythin i just wanna let you know that there's a scene in this fic that'll probably make you go, "wait, is this about to happen? right now? like that?" &amp; the answer is no !! i just don't want u getting spooked out of the fic shshdhdhhdh anyways! </p><p>hope ur all staying safe &amp; please enjoy love u x</p><p>title from black dog by arlo parks</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Opening the TARDIS doors had always involved an element of apprehension.</p><p> </p><p>Apprehension. Excitement. Impatience. Giddiness. Fear. Ecstasy. It all went hand in hand when you traveled with the Doctor. No good without bad, no bad without brilliant. Yaz could always count on that. No matter the dangers, the Doctor forever had a show on hand for them—lying in wait just beyond the weathered blue wood of her faithful, flying box. </p><p> </p><p>God, but she was a miracle, wasn’t she?</p><p> </p><p>Every precious second with her was worth a lifetime back home. Even the ones they spent running for their lives. </p><p> </p><p>Really, though, it was hard for Yaz to mind that she was running for her life when she ran untethered from the rules of time and space; when she ran untold millennia and legion lightyears from home. </p><p> </p><p>It was even harder for her to mind when she ran side by side with the Doctor. </p><p> </p><p>Back then, before things went so wrong, the Doctor would always be the first one out of the TARDIS. Yaz never gave it much thought before. In hindsight, Yaz reckoned she probably did it for the same reason she positioned herself between the others and even the worst of the monsters they faced; the same reason she shielded Yaz’s body with her own in the event of imminent, lethal peril. It was just one of the many ways in which the Doctor went out of her way to protect them. One of the many things Yaz once took for granted.</p><p> </p><p>In the Doctor’s absence, Yaz counted each and every one of those things. Wrote them on the walls. Burned them behind her eyelids. Chewed on them until, like old gum, they lost all flavour and disintegrated to nothing on her tongue. </p><p> </p><p>So many nothings. </p><p> </p><p>But that was life without the Doctor. Nothing. And it was the kind of nothing you noticed, because it hadn’t always been that. The Doctor left an infinity-shaped hole behind her when she vanished, and Yaz fell endlessly down it; every time she thought she was about to hit bottom, she just kept going. </p><p> </p><p>Right now, however, she was in stasis. </p><p> </p><p>Not falling. Not climbing. Suspended in the black, with her fingers wrapped around the door handle. </p><p> </p><p>They’d opened the doors to war zones before. They’d opened them to witch hunts and savages and exploding suns and falling empires. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz was far more afraid of what she’d find now. </p><p> </p><p>It had taken a lot to get this far. Almost a year of around the clock obsessing. Studying the impossible mechanics of the TARDIS that got them home. Trying to recall every throwaway remark the Doctor ever made about navigating the universe and piloting a time ship such as hers. If it really were the Doctor’s, Yaz thought all it would have taken was for her to ask nicely. <em> Bring me to her. Please.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Instead, Yaz was forced to tear through manuals found on board the TARDIS’ library—written in such dense and convoluted text that every page took roughly a week of constant analysis to translate. </p><p> </p><p>It was a stroke of luck, in the end, that drove like a stake through the heart of Yaz’s increased hopelessness. </p><p> </p><p>Ten months after watching the Doctor walk away from her on Gallifrey, Yaz found something of the Doctor’s under her bed. She’d only returned home to pack some more things and steal a little food from the fridge before returning to camp out in the TARDIS. Except, while she was there, she dropped a pair of socks and they rolled under her bed. When she reached blindly to retrieve it, her hand closed around something else.</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor’s bum bag.</p><p> </p><p>Yaz and Ryan had ridiculed her for it when she first wore it. Of course they had—it was such a ridiculously tacky thing (Yaz remembered kicking it under her bed when the Doctor was looking for it so they wouldn’t all be subjected to the horror of watching her take an even greater hit to her questionable-at-best, thrift store fashion).</p><p> </p><p>But, in that moment, Yaz had never been more ecstatic for the existence of anything anywhere. The contents were: a broken compass, loose marbles, a plush frog key ring, four bow ties, a polaroid of the fam, and a custard cream with a bite taken out of it. </p><p> </p><p>She held the custard cream on her open palm and she stared and stared and stared. And then she bolted. A blur in motion, she flew out of the flat, descended the stairs three at a time, and sailed like a bullet around the block to the TARDIS. </p><p> </p><p>Genetic code. </p><p> </p><p>It’s what she’d been waiting for all this time. Just a single molecule of the Doctor’s DNA for the TARDIS to lock onto. A strand of hair. A fingernail clipping. Year old saliva clinging to a stale biscuit. </p><p> </p><p>The biscuit went in a glass box and the box got swallowed by the console and the monitor buffered and buffered and buffered and then—</p><p> </p><p><em> Ding</em>!</p><p> </p><p>Like a microwave when the popcorn was done. Yaz didn’t understand the circles on the screen but she understood the colour green. Green meant go, meant yes, meant hope. Green meant pull the goddamn lever. So she did. </p><p> </p><p>Emulating the Doctor as best she could, Yaz raced around the console, needlessly referred to the sticky notes plastered beneath every switch and toggle and gizmo and gadget, gave the sand timer a calculated spin, and then yanked on the lever. The time rotor groaned and the ground shook, but there were far fewer sparks and much less turbulence than when the Doctor was in control (Yaz didn’t like it. She missed the Doctor’s chaos sorely. Not just her chaos, but her calm. Not just her calm, but her kindness. Not just her kindness, but her rage. Not just her rage. She missed everything. All of it. The bad and the brilliant and the outright bonkers). </p><p> </p><p>Yaz thought she might throw up. </p><p> </p><p>She was flying the TARDIS. Following her only lead in nigh on a year. Chasing the Doctor’s trail across the stars, risk and rationality be damned. For the first time in an age, Yaz laughed. It didn’t matter where she might end up, or that she might not know how to get home, or that she hadn’t told anybody where she was going or wished a soul goodbye. None of it mattered.</p><p> </p><p>Not if she got to see the Doctor again. Say all the things she never could. Do all the things she never did. Hold her like she never had. </p><p> </p><p>But then the TARDIS landed with a bone-shuddering jolt. In the crypt-silence that followed, the smile on Yaz’s face evaporated. She’d arrived. Where? When? She didn’t know. It had never mattered before—not when the Doctor had her. Now? Now was now, and now was worlds away from then. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz’s hollow footsteps bounced off the glowing walls when she made her way slowly towards the doors. Her hands started to shake. Her heart seized like a sick dog. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What if I’m about to open the door to her body? To a graveyard? To the ashes of Gallifrey? To the Master’s twisted grin?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Terrifying notions.</p><p> </p><p>Not knowing was worse. </p><p> </p><p>She opened the door. She opened the door, and everything stopped. Thought. Time. The passage of air into her lungs. She opened the door, and this is what she saw. </p><p> </p><p>A dark, dingy, cavernous pit of a room. A tomb? No, not a tomb. There was a window. Kind of. In the wall, barred by luminous slats which hummed like they were charged to shock, a jagged hole allowed for a measly view of distant stars and a great expanse of harrowing darkness. Space. She was in space. Actually, she was in a cell that was in space. </p><p> </p><p>The grey walls had been carved with the etchings of the insane. At least, that was Yaz’s initial assumption upon noticing the countless tally marks scrawled into every last inch of concrete. Not tallies of five, but of seven. Hundreds over here, hundreds over there, hundreds overhead, hundreds underfoot. </p><p> </p><p>But then—</p><p> </p><p>Something else.</p><p> </p><p>Yaz stepped across the threshold for a better look. On a raised platform, in the centre of the room, was a bed. Something that passed for a bed, at any rate—better described as a rock hard slab on four legs. A person lay on top of it. It looked like a person, anyway, though they were admittedly hidden from view beneath a thin, muck-brown blanket. Curled up into a fetal position, they slept and they shivered. Yaz could tell because the blankets trembled violently. </p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t be sure, but… was that a lock of blonde hair poking out from beneath the blanket? </p><p> </p><p>Yaz took another step, but dread weighed her down like a ball and chain tethered to her feet. If she’d eaten a single thing in the last couple of days, it might well have re-emerged right then. </p><p> </p><p>That <em> couldn’t </em> be her.</p><p> </p><p>Could it? </p><p> </p><p>The answer, it transpired, was closer than she knew. Before she moved another muscle, her pupils latched onto something else carved into the cold, stone walls. Something between two sets of tally marks. Small and easy to miss. It was only three letters, after all. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Y A Z</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Yaz’s jaw quivered. She traced her own name with the tip of her finger—it looked like it had been gone over time and time again for how dark and deep it was. When she withdrew her hand, her skin came away dusty with rubble, suggesting the hieroglyph had only recently been replenished. Perhaps only right before she arrived. </p><p> </p><p>“Again?” croaked a feeble voice at once agonisingly familiar and horrifically foreign for its dearth of cheer and haggard edge. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz whirled around on the spot. The figure on the bed was sitting up. The blanket still half-hung from their head, and they had their back to the pale glow of the bars, but even in shadow—even in another lifetime, in another universe, in the blue flames of hell or the white light of divinity—Yaz would know her true. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god,” breathed Yaz. “Doctor?”</p><p> </p><p>“Again?” the Doctor repeated, harsher this time. She got to her feet and her blanket hung from the shoulders of a red prison jumpsuit. Her hair was slicked back with grease, there were dark bags under her wary eyes, and her jaw was sharper than last Yaz had seen it. “Now this is just gettin’ cruel.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz didn’t know what to say. This is the last thing she’d expected to find. She’d thought maybe the Doctor had been hurt, maybe she’d left them behind and decided to forget about them. She’d thought maybe the Doctor was gone. </p><p> </p><p>On one hand, she was relieved. There she was, after all this time. Alive. Of course she hadn’t abandoned Yaz. She would never. </p><p> </p><p>But, on the other hand, Yaz was horrified. Who would do this to her? Why?</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor shrugged the blanket from her back and stepped off the platform, right into the beam of light falling in through the window. She didn’t look anywhere near as happy to see Yaz as she’d hoped she would. </p><p> </p><p>“How many times have we danced this dance, eh? A hundred? More?” The Doctor sighed. “Aren’t you tired?”</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor…” Yaz shook her head in an effort to expel her shock and all of her anguish. She took a step closer. “It’s me. I came for you. I came to get you. Bring you home.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, right,” the Doctor laughed bitterly. Her eyes landed on the TARDIS. It had camouflaged itself into a stone pillar, but the door remained open. “That’s a new touch. You’re gettin’ creative. Or—well, I s’pose <em> I’m </em> gettin’ creative. I’m meant to believe you flew that TARDIS I left you with all on your Todd, am I? Bit far fetched. Points for effort though. Or was I doin’ stars? Ah. Doesn’t matter. Might as well check it out before I snap out of it again.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? But—“</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor breezed right past Yaz without so much as another glance in her direction. Perplexed, Yaz gaped after her whilst she poked her head around the door, looked around, and hummed as if impressed.</p><p> </p><p>“Pretty realistic, actually. Guess I know my stuff. Wonder how far I can stretch my imagination?” </p><p> </p><p>It was like she wasn’t even talking to Yaz. Like Yaz didn’t exist. No, the Doctor appeared far more interested in the TARDIS schematics when she ventured inside and began to inspect the architecture for inconsistencies. Yaz was left with no choice but to follow after her.</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor, what are you on about? It’s me. I’m <em> here</em>. Don’t you see me?” </p><p> </p><p>Yaz reached for the Doctor’s shoulder but her hand closed around nothing when the Doctor pressed on towards the centre of the console room without indulging Yaz’s pleas. Her indifference was killing Yaz. It was. She felt it like venom burning through her veins. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s with all the sticky notes?” wondered the Doctor. She plucked one from the blue-lit wall and began to regurgitate the manic penmanship scrawled onto it out loud. “‘Because she saved your life. Because she’s alone. Because you’re alone. Because she’d do the same for you. Because she’s the best person you’ve ever met. Because you never told her you…’” The Doctor halted. She didn’t—couldn’t?—finish the sentence. </p><p> </p><p>Anxious, Yaz cleared her throat and wrung her hands. She hadn’t even thought to clear the evidence of her all-consuming fixation on the Doctor in her haste to find her. </p><p> </p><p>“Those were all my reasons not to give up on you,” Yaz explained meekly. “There are about fifty more lists exactly like that. Maybe more—I dunno. I never ran out of reasons, Doctor. I didn’t even come close.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor’s throat constricted. She stared at the post-it. Then, in a blink, her face hardened and she screwed the paper up into a ball and tossed it over her shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>“Got Yaz’s handwriting wrong, I’m afraid. She were always a lot neater than that. And the state of this place? Nah. Yaz would never. Not for me. I mean, come on. A sleepin’ bag?” The Doctor nodded towards the rolled up sleeping bag tucked beneath the console and scoffed. She turned her back on Yaz and regarded the post-it plastered wall with a shake of her head.</p><p> </p><p>Yaz lowered her eyes. “I worried the TARDIS might disappear without me if I didn’t stay,” she confessed. “Like you did.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor went still. Only after a long, tense moment of braced shoulders and clenched fists did she duck her chin and run a hand through her dirty hair. “How many times do we have to have this conversation?”</p><p> </p><p>“This is the first time.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so bloody sick of you hauntin’ me, Yaz. I don’t know what you want from me. I really don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not haunting you,” insisted Yaz. Her voice broke under the weight of her urgency and a lone tear tracked her cheek. “Please—I really did come for you. It really is me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” mumbled the Doctor. She looked over her shoulder and eyed Yaz from head to toe. “It’s always you, isn’t it? Every time. My only visitor all these years. Thing is, I get it. I <em> know </em> what my subconscious is tryna tell me; you made that message crystal clear from day one.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz’s face fell. “Years?”</p><p> </p><p>“What I don’t understand,” the Doctor ploughed on, “is why you’re bein’ so cruel. And when I say you, I do of course mean me. Why do I keep using your face? You’d never hurt me. Ever. But it’s like I want you to—just so that I can see you again. So I can feel somethin’. Even if it’s agony every single time.”</p><p> </p><p>“You… you still think about me?”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor barked a mirthless laugh. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Do I think about you? Gods, Yaz. You’re every star I can see from my window. You’re every tally in my walls, every bruise on my body, you’re my whole universe—and I can’t stand it. I’m so tired of seein’ you everywhere I turn. I can’t even close my eyes anymore without your face already waitin’ in the darkness for me. But this—“ the Doctor raised her palms and tilted her head back— “really takes the cake. One hell of a lucid dream. I mean, kudos to me, my brain did a really bang up job whippin’ this one up.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz gasped helplessly. “You’re not dreamin’. <em> Look </em> at me. Really, properly look at me. This is happenin’. I’m standing right in front of you!”</p><p> </p><p>Words weren't enough. They rolled off the Doctor like rain off the mountainside. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s funny,” the Doctor carried on under her breath, touching her palm to the edge of the console, “I almost don’t want this one to end. I think I’d be alright with it, y’know? If I never woke up again. If I let myself go mad and just lived in this fantasy with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doc—“</p><p> </p><p>“It’s so <em> real </em>. All of it, every last detail. And you…” She set her sights on Yaz. “Look at you. You’re incredible. A bona fide masterpiece, if I do say so myself.”</p><p> </p><p>And then she advanced upon Yaz. Three long strides and they were nose to nose. Yaz stumbled backwards; collided with the wall. The Doctor’s frantic pupils zipped between each individual detail of her face. There was an element of wonder there. And something else. </p><p> </p><p>“You look so real,” whispered the Doctor.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s because I am.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor lifted a hand. Her pale fingers hovered just shy of Yaz’s face and Yaz watched them—not afraid, but definitely nervous. The Doctor wouldn’t ever harm Yaz, this she knew to be true. Except, right now, the Doctor didn’t even believe that <em> was </em> Yaz. What if she decided she wanted the hallucination to end? What if she decided there was only one way to make that happen? </p><p> </p><p>Yaz held her breath when the Doctor tentatively cupped her cheek in her cool hand and inhaled sharply. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re so warm,” she said, grazing her thumb across Yaz’s skin. “Were you always this warm? I never got to touch you like this before. I wanted to, but…”</p><p> </p><p>“You did?”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor gently dragged her fingertips down the side of Yaz’s face and along the slope of her jaw. Without warning, she leaned into Yaz’s neck and breathed her in deeply. Yaz’s fingernails dug sharply into her own palms and her heart stirred. </p><p> </p><p>“You even smell real.” The Doctor looked up, right into Yaz’s wide eyes, and licked her lips. “I wonder if you taste real.”</p><p> </p><p>Probably, Yaz should have done something then. Pushed the Doctor away. Screamed at her. Shook her by the shoulders. As it was, the primal, hungry way in which the Doctor was gazing at her severed all ties between her muscles and her mind. She stood heavy and still as a rock. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor pulled on Yaz’s lower lip with her thumb. “I mean, if I’m gonna lose the plot, why can’t I enjoy it?” </p><p> </p><p>“Doctor,” tried Yaz. Her voice hardly made an impression upon her own ears. </p><p> </p><p>“This is what you wanted, right? Because you’re a part of me, and every part of me wants this.” The Doctor pressed her palms to the wall at either side of Yaz’s shoulders. “We’ve always wanted it, haven't we? ‘Course we have. Right from the minute we met her. But if I can’t have her, then I reckon you’ll just have to do. It’s just a dream anyway. That’s all you are, Yaz. You’re a dream. Why don’t we make it a good one for once?”</p><p> </p><p><em> Was </em> this a dream?</p><p> </p><p>Surreal didn’t really cut it. Yaz flew the TARDIS. Yaz found the Doctor. The Doctor was in prison. The Doctor pushed Yaz up against a wall and confessed to an apparition that she wanted her. Had always wanted her. But was she speaking from a place of lucidity? It was hard for Yaz to consider that the case. Harder, still, to deny the Doctor anything. </p><p> </p><p>“Can you do somethin’ for me, Yaz?” asked the Doctor, tucking a curl that had fallen loose from Yaz’s dishevelled bun behind her ear.</p><p> </p><p>Yaz’s voice was tight and her mouth dry when she asked, “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me you love me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I…” At a loss for words, Yaz thudded the back of her head against the wall and searched the Doctor’s face with wide eyes and lips parted. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“I need to hear it. From her mouth. In her voice. Properly.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz paused. “You first.”</p><p> </p><p>After a beat, the Doctor twisted her mouth into a wonky grin and laughed. “Defo got her stubborn streak down, didn’t we?”</p><p> </p><p>“Would you stop talkin’ about me in the third person?” Yaz chided with a clenched jaw. “It’s getting kind of old now, mate.”</p><p> </p><p>Contrary to the grin on her face, which shrank and shrank until it disappeared altogether, there was a flame burning molten behind the Doctor’s golden eyes which only seemed to intensify with every word Yaz spoke. Yaz was tempted to call it glee. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you’re really nailin’ it this time,” she commended.</p><p> </p><p>Yaz gritted her teeth. “How many more times am I gonna have to tell you—“</p><p> </p><p>None, apparently. </p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t get the words out if she wanted to when the Doctor pressed her impatient mouth to Yaz’s and muffled her successive, startled grunt. </p><p> </p><p>Oh. Right. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor was kissing her. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz didn’t kiss her back, to begin with, and it wasn’t because she didn’t want to kiss the Doctor. It wasn’t because she hadn’t dreamed of doing exactly that every day since she crashed through the roof of a train car and landed squarely in the middle of her life. It wasn’t even because the Doctor’s lips were a little bit chapped. </p><p> </p><p>No, the reason Yaz’s mouth remained firmly shut—following that initial point of contact—was because none of this was happening how she’d ever expected it to. Or wanted it to. There was no romance or heart or passion; it was all blind desperation and blindsiding instability. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor pulled minutely away but not far enough that Yaz couldn’t still feel her every breath settling on the curve of her lips. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz herself was all out of breath. </p><p> </p><p>“Come on, just give me somethin’,” the Doctor pleaded, closing her eyes and resting her brow against Yaz’s. “One good dream. Just this once. Please, Yaz, I’m beggin’ you. I just want to feel you. That’s it—that’s all I want. Haven’t I suffered enough? Haven’t we both?”</p><p> </p><p>Christ, it felt like all Yaz had ever done was suffer. And, lately, the cause of her suffering? Not having the Doctor. </p><p> </p><p>Now here she stood.</p><p> </p><p>Offering herself entirely. </p><p> </p><p>And it was wrong. It was so wrong and it was so selfish, but Yaz was only human and the Doctor was begging and broken and still so unbelievably beautiful amidst it all. And she’d just kissed her. Forgive her. </p><p> </p><p>Forgive her, because what could be more human than to love carelessly? </p><p> </p><p>Yaz was driven not by thought but by an intrinsic, deathless yearning when she swallowed the sharp bones of her reservations and pressed her palm to the Doctor’s cheek. The Doctor’s half-hopeful eyes fluttered open and Yaz was ready and waiting to meet them. She nodded. </p><p> </p><p>No sooner had she done so than her head smacked against the wall with the full force of the Doctor’s kiss. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor wasn’t gentle, wasn’t careful, wasn’t tame. She kissed Yaz as if, at any second, she might be torn away from her and she’d never get the chance to taste her again. Yaz tried her best to keep up but the Doctor was erratic in every sense. She was breathy and noisy and her hands firmly squeezed Yaz’s hips, holding her close and holding her hard. She didn’t want Yaz to get away—this much was clear. </p><p> </p><p>But Yaz wasn’t trying to.</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t believe it. She had her Doctor back after all this time, and she had her like she’d always wanted her. Almost. Kind of. It wasn’t perfect, but nothing was. This was allowed. This was okay, right?</p><p> </p><p>More than anything, Yaz wanted it to be okay—but she knew it wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Yaz gasped when the Doctor zeroed in on her throat, fisting a hand in her hair and tilting her head back so that she could run her tongue up the taut stretch of her skin and then attach her lips to a spot she correctly judged as awfully, wonderfully sensitive. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz should have been stopping her. Why wasn’t she stopping her?</p><p> </p><p>“You taste so <em> human</em>,” the Doctor growled against her neck. She slid her hands down the curve of Yaz’s backside and groped, humming when Yaz jumped. “Your little heart’s racin’, Yasmin Khan. Is this turnin’ you on?”</p><p> </p><p>Yes.</p><p> </p><p>No?</p><p> </p><p>“Um.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t we find out?” </p><p> </p><p>“What?” squeaked Yaz. </p><p> </p><p>Next thing, the Doctor’s tongue was inside her mouth again and it was still such a staggering sensation that Yaz almost didn’t notice her rapid fingers unbuttoning her jeans and yanking down her zipper. Not until the Doctor made as though to dive her hand beneath Yaz’s waistband. </p><p> </p><p>At last, the gig was finally up. Yaz had already crossed several lines; the last thing she wanted was a full set of tallies on her hands lest she start guiltily carving the walls with them. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop,” she panted, closing her hand around the Doctor’s wrist and drawing her head back. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor frowned. “What for?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t let you do this. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz could see the gears turning behind the Doctor’s eyes as she no doubt attempted to understand the motivations of her own subconscious. Her brows drifted inward and she glanced at the hand Yaz was holding her advances at bay with. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t get it. Is this another game? What, offer me everythin’ I want and then take it away from me right at the last second?”</p><p> </p><p>“No games,” said Yaz. Her mouth already missed the feel of the Doctor. “I just can’t do this with you like this—while you still think I’m some kinda figment of your imagination. It’s wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor’s eyes darkened. “You <em> are </em> a figment of my imagination.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, for god’s sake!” </p><p> </p><p>Yaz pulled the Doctor’s hand away from her trousers and pressed her fingers to her pulse, which was still tripping over itself at the fresh memory of keen tongues and greedy hands. </p><p> </p><p>“Can you feel that? Can you?” urged Yaz. “That’s my heart beatin’ at your fingertips. That’s real. I’m standin’ in front of you and you’re lookin’ at me and I’m lookin’ back at you—-and that’s real. You’re safe, Doctor. You’re free. That’s real. Just please… look at me. Believe me. I’m right here.”</p><p> </p><p>Releasing her hold on the Doctor, Yaz let her own hand fall to her side, but the Doctor’s fingers remained glued to her pulse. She watched Yaz’s neck and an allusion to growing panic put down roots in every deepening crease of her face and glowing fleck of her irises. Her pupils pin balled between both of Yaz’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“If it’s really you,” she quivered, “tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz could name a million things. All the myriad ways she’d loved the Doctor from both close and afar, the number of nights she’d spent thinking about her with the tears of an unrequited fool in her eyes; the things she’d pictured the Doctor doing to her in the dark. Like a sun, all these things had been searing the tip of her tongue for an age. Yaz could open her mouth and free it—paint the Doctor in a brand new light she’d never basked in before—but now wasn’t the time to be waxing romantic. The Doctor would only perceive it as another trick. </p><p> </p><p>“Your bum bag,” she said at last. “I know where it went.”</p><p> </p><p>“My… what?”</p><p> </p><p>“You came into my room one time while I were packin’ my stuff for a trip, and you were wavin’ your stupid bum bag around and goin’ on about how cool and mysterious it made y’look. Said everyone would be wondering what y’were hiding in there. Remember? And you dropped it when you got all excited about my teddy bears and, while you weren’t looking, I kicked it under my bed. Later, you just assumed you lost it somewhere. And it was forgotten. Even I forgot about it. Until today.” </p><p> </p><p>Yaz reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the polaroid she’d discovered inside the bag. She offered it to the Doctor with a shaking hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Found this in there. Remember this day?”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor plucked the picture from between Yaz’s fingers and studied it closely. The Doctor was at the forefront of the still—half of her, at any rate. Her selfie skills left something to be desired. Yaz was right beside her with her arm around her shoulders, and Graham and Ryan were at their backs. Graham was doing bunny ears behind Ryan’s head and Ryan was mid-sneeze. Yaz wasn’t even looking at the camera. She was looking, as always, right at the Doctor. </p><p> </p><p>Oblivious to all of this, the Doctor grinned, broad and unaffected and heartbreaking. Yaz missed that smile so much. She missed it even before the Doctor disappeared because, somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten how to be happy. </p><p> </p><p>“This was when I took you all to Woodstock,” she recalled, frowning. </p><p> </p><p>“It were brilliant, weren’t it? Ryan even got those hippies to share some of their weed. You were zonked,” laughed Yaz, “and you didn’t even try any.”</p><p> </p><p>“Second hand smoke is no joke,” muttered the Doctor in a perfunctory fashion. She was holding the photo so tight it creased. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Well, another thing you don’t know is that my favourite part about that whole trip weren’t the music or the crowds or any of that—it were how close we were the whole time. Shoulder to shoulder. Thigh to thigh. You even climbed on my back at one point to get a better look, and I thought I were just gonna die right there. And you held my hand when we elbowed through all those people, and you even hugged me when you were stoned. It were the most I’d ever got to touch you at one time. It were incredible. I couldn’t stop smilin’ for so long my cheeks hurt.”</p><p> </p><p>“Probably the whacky baccy.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. It was you. The only reason I ever smile like that is ‘cause of you, Doctor.”</p><p> </p><p>At last, the Doctor lowered the photo and lifted her gaze. She regarded Yaz as if she were suddenly frightened of her. Yaz braced herself when the Doctor leaned into her, but all she did was press her ear to her chest and listen, again, to the drumbeat of her heart. She listened for a long while, and then she slowly, fearfully, pulled away. The next time she looked at Yaz, she truly saw her. Yaz could tell. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” gasped the Doctor. “It’s you.”</p><p> </p><p>Some of the tension in Yaz’s muscles dissipated. <em> Finally. </em></p><p> </p><p>“It’s me, Doctor.”</p><p> </p><p>“But—but I—“ The Doctor staggered back and touched her lips; a thousand shades of regret painted her stricken face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. How could I—Yaz, please, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor, it’s okay. Really.” Yaz stepped forward. “Just calm—“</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor fled. She whirled on the heels of her boots and sprinted into the winding tunnels of the TARDIS. Yaz swore and went after her. </p><p> </p><p>One thing Yaz hadn’t counted on was the Doctor still being so fast and wily after so long spent rotting in a tiny cell. Yaz lost sight of her when she vanished around the first bend and never managed to catch up with her. After that, it became not a matter of chasing her, but a matter of finding her. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz hadn’t devoted much time to learning the map of this TARDIS. It never seemed relevant to her efforts at flying it, save for the need to locate the library. Once or twice, when sleeping on the floor in the console room proved too uncomfortable to endure, she’d managed to seek out a generic bedroom and slump onto an untouched mattress—but that had been a mixture of luck and trial and error. Every white hallway looked the same. Every grey door looked the same. Still, she tried them all. </p><p> </p><p>It must have been half an hour before her efforts bore fruit. She was convinced she’d been walking in circles; convinced she’d walked past that glowing panel before or tried that handle or peered inside that room. She was coming to the end of another endless hallway, and starting to seriously worry that she may be lost in the winding intestines of the ship, when she tried her hundredth door. </p><p> </p><p>The door opened into a kind of space age kitchen, all chrome surfaces and touch screen appliances. Soft blue strip lights inset into the ceiling and the sides of the counters illuminated the room. Spotless. Unused. Vacant. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz almost disregarded it as another dead end but, just as she started to back out through the door, she noticed the red knee of the Doctor’s boiler suit poking out from behind the oval island. Uncertain how best to proceed, Yaz froze. She didn’t want to race over there and risk spooking the Doctor again, nor did she want to leave her to her own devices when she was so clearly struggling—and had already spent an untold amount of time isolated from a single person who loved her. </p><p> </p><p>Instead, Yaz took a deep breath to mollify her racing thoughts and pounding heart, and picked her way gingerly across the kitchen. The closer she drew, the more of the Doctor was revealed to her.</p><p> </p><p>Her legs were crossed and her elbows rested on her knees, head down and hands fisted in her hair. The polaroid was on the floor in front of her, bent where the Doctor had tactlessly gripped it. It didn’t matter. They could take a thousand more now that she’d found the Doctor. When the Doctor was ready to smile for the camera again, of course. </p><p> </p><p>“Doctor?” Yaz called softly. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor started, whipping her head up and lifting her scarred hands defensively. The moment she saw who her intruder was, she relaxed—if it could be called that—and gradually dropped her hands to her lap. Again, she ducked her head. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” winced Yaz. “Is it okay if I join you?”</p><p> </p><p>Curtained by matted hair, the Doctor’s face was a clue out of reach. Yaz decided to take her silence as an invitation, but kept her distance nonetheless, opting to slide her back down the counter opposite her and sit with her knees pulled to her chest. She aggravated her bottom lip between her teeth and tried not to sigh. Seeing the Doctor so withdrawn and skittish didn’t just pluck at her heartstrings, it took a cleaver and slashed them all in half. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m tryna think of something to ask you other than, ‘how are you feeling’, but… how are you feeling?” </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor ran a finger over one of the scars between her knuckles absently. Yaz did her best not to wonder where it came from, or agonise over the fact that her old wounds had time enough to heal in her absence.</p><p> </p><p>“I just keep thinkin’ I’m gonna wake up any second,” susurrated the Doctor. She scoffed angrily. “The one time it’s real, and I go and—gods, Yaz, I’m sorry. How could I do that to you? You saved my life and I just pounced on you like a wild bloody animal. What’s wrong with me? How can you even stand to be lookin’ at me right now?”</p><p> </p><p>“You already know the answer, Doctor.”</p><p> </p><p>Reluctantly, the Doctor eyed Yaz through her lashes. In the thick silence, they communicated something crucial. Something they’d get around to talking about out loud when things weren’t so fresh and messy. </p><p> </p><p>“At any rate,” Yaz continued, “it’s my fault. I let you do it. I <em> wanted </em> you to. I should’ve stopped you sooner. I owe you an apology, too.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor shrugged. “Shock’s a hell of a thing. You stopped me. That’s what matters.” Heaving a sigh, she leaned back against the metallic curve of the island and tilted her head back. The blue lights washed her face in misery and accentuated a drying tear-track down one of her cheeks. “How long’s it been for you? Since you last saw me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Almost a year.” Yaz chewed the inside of her cheek and debated returning the question, if only because the answer frightened her. But Yaz had never run from the terrifying unknown before; she’d be damned if she was going to start now. “What about you?”</p><p> </p><p>A cynical sound made its way past the Doctor’s lips. </p><p> </p><p>“Longer.”</p><p> </p><p>“How much longer?”</p><p> </p><p>“A lot longer.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz shook her head. “I don’t understand—why were you in prison? Who put you in there? What kind of—“</p><p> </p><p>“I’d really rather not talk about it, Yaz,” pleaded the Doctor, “if that’s okay with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Yeah, of course. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, don’t be sorry. That’s what you do, PC Khan. You ask questions. You’re a dog with a bone—I’ll wager that’s how you found me. Oh, have I thanked you for that yet? I meant to. Thank you, Yaz. Eternally.” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s nothin’,” mumbled Yaz, averting her gaze.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it? You flew a TARDIS all by yourself. You found me when no one else cared enough to look. You saved me from—“ the Doctor choked back the end of her sentence and ground her jaw. Following a staggered breath, she carried on. “Point is, it’s far from nothin’. You’re an impossible woman, Yaz. Impossible. And I’ll never not be blown away by you. I didn’t tell you enough before, but I’m tellin’ you now: you’re my hero. You’re my actual hero.”</p><p> </p><p>Glassy-eyed, Yaz did her best not to shy away from the sincerity scored through the Doctor’s admission. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re mine, too,” she professed. “Always have been. Always will be.”</p><p> </p><p>For the first time in over ten months, Yaz was afforded the honour of bearing witnesses to a genuine Doctor smile. It was weak and it was a little bit sad, but it was real, and Yaz almost burst into tears because of it. She held herself together only for the Doctor’s sake.</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” started the Doctor, clapping her hands together, “I dunno about you, but I’m positively starvin’. Where d’you keep the biscuits on this thing, eh?”</p><p> </p><p>“How about I dig up some biscuits while you go and have a wash?” Yaz suggested. “No offence, mate, but y’really could use one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yasmin Khan, are you implyin’ that I smell?” The Doctor clutched her chest and feigned offence. However, when she gave her armpit a quick whiff, her nose wrinkled and she recoiled rapidly. “Okay, fair enough. I think a long, hot shower’s in order first.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t forget about your teeth, either.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would I forget I have teeth? Pretty unusual thing to slip from someone’s mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“I meant don’t forget to brush ‘em,” sighed Yaz, getting to her feet and helping the Doctor to hers. “I’ve a toothbrush in my bag. You can just use that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is it clean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor, you’ve just had your tongue in my mouth. Does it really matter?”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor’s cheeks flushed with colour and she studied the toes of her boots whilst they walked back out into the corridors. </p><p> </p><p>“S’pose not, no.”</p><p> </p><p>Taking pity, Yaz nudged her gently in the arm. “All I’m sayin’ is, if you ever want it to happen again, you’d better not have prison breath. It were a good kiss, but you kinda tasted like oatmeal. Like, really old oatmeal. Which isn’t the worst thing, as it goes, but…”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz didn’t realise that the Doctor had stopped until she looked to her left to find that she was walking alone. She turned around and the Doctor was standing motionless in the hallway, staring at her with an inscrutable expression on her face. </p><p> </p><p>“Doctor?”</p><p> </p><p>“You, um—you’d want to—I mean, you’d be okay with it happenin’ again? You’d want that?”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz pursed her lips sympathetically. She’d defied all odds to bring the Doctor home, had refused to give up hope on her when all others had turned their backs on her one by one; had even left the truth of her heart written on the walls in hasty script for the Doctor to read firsthand—and still she doubted the existence and durability of Yaz’s love. </p><p> </p><p>Rather than credit the question with an answer, Yaz took the Doctor’s hand, locked their fingers together, and led her wordlessly down the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>Once the Doctor had piloted them safely away from prison and left them hovering somewhere in deep space, she retreated to one of the TARDIS’ washrooms whilst Yaz dug up the biscuits she’d hoarded on board for this very occasion. She was smiling the whole time. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz had dreamed endlessly about the day she’d finally be able to tear open those packets of custard creams, bourbons, and digestives in celebration of the Doctor’s return. She licked crumbs of sugar and chocolate from her thumb and the sweetness of it dizzied her. Her smile stretched wider. By the time she reached the bathroom the Doctor was in, an en suite to a bedroom identical to all the rest on board the ship, her face was a portrait of dumb glee. </p><p> </p><p>She was about to knock on the door when she noticed that it had been left ajar. Through the opening, she could see a slim silver of the bathroom mirror. The Doctor was standing before it. She’d changed into a soft mustard jumper and a pair of grey joggers Yaz had lent her, and her hair was still damp from her shower. Her hands white-knuckled the lip of the sink. She was staring hard at herself, like she was furious or devastated or lost. </p><p> </p><p>Perhaps all of the above. </p><p> </p><p>Believing she hadn’t been spotted, Yaz took a silent step back with the intention of granting the Doctor some privacy. </p><p> </p><p>But then, “It’s gonna take a long time to get used to this,” the Doctor said. Yaz wasn’t sure if she was addressing her or the mirror—not until the Doctor caught her eye in the reflection. “I lied before, when I told you it’d been ages since I last saw you. I saw you all the time while I were trapped in that place. But I s’pose you’ve figured that much out already, eh?”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz said nothing while the Doctor turned away from the mirror and opened the door all the way. Already, she looked physically healthier. Some colour had returned to her pale skin, there was no filth caking her hands or her clothes; she smelled like pine and lemon and something uniquely, indescribably her. Still, there was a heaviness behind her eyes which Yaz feared she would never understand the full burden of. If only she could share it with her. If only she could carry it all, she’d break every bone in her body to do so. </p><p> </p><p>“D’you know what you’d tell me, when you visited me?” asked the Doctor. “You’d tell me I was never good enough for you. That I didn’t deserve you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor, that’s insane.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s true. I didn’t treat you well back then. I iced you out—all of you. Held you at arm’s length. Got mad at you when you tried to be there for me. So you turned up and you listed all the ways I let you down, and reminded me that I’d probably never get the chance to make any of it right.” </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor took the plate from Yaz’s hands and set it down on the dresser without tearing her eyes away from her. Once the lone barrier between them was removed, she stepped into Yaz’s space and closed her hands gently around her upper arms. </p><p> </p><p>“But you showed up for me. I still can’t believe it, but you did. Don’t get me wrong, Yaz, I didn’t want you to sit around waitin’ for me. I didn’t want you to devote your life to findin’ me. Actually, I hoped you’d move on. Live the brilliant life I wanted for you and forget all about me. But that’s just not us, is it? You haunted me just like I haunted you. It breaks my heart, but we can’t change who we are, and who we are is hopeless,” chuckled the Doctor. “Hopeless and stupid and reckless and… well. I s’pose we’re just a pair of romantics, at the end of the day. A pair of romantics caught in one another’s orbit. Strange, that I never pegged you as one.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did you have me pegged as?”</p><p> </p><p>“Smarter,” the Doctor quipped. “Smarter than this old fool, at any rate.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz puffed her chest out defiantly. “What’s so bad about being a romantic? I’m a lot of things for you, Doctor. More than you probably realise.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bein’ a romantic is lethal.”</p><p> </p><p>“It saved your life.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what did it do to yours?”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz halted; the argument she’d been brewing slipped back down her gullet and scalded her on its way. The truth was, she didn’t have a life anymore. She’d been living in the TARDIS. She neglected every last one of her responsibilities. She left her family and friends behind because they only ever looked at her like something radioactive anymore; like an implosion waiting to happen. Yaz’s life now could be summed up in one word. </p><p> </p><p>“Doctor,” began Yaz.</p><p> </p><p>But the Doctor wasn’t finished. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s all right, Yaz. I’ve been here before, and I’m not gonna try and talk you out of feelin’ the way you do. Partly because I just don’t want to. I promised myself every single day in that place that, if I ever saw you again, I’d hold onto you with both hands—“ the Doctor squeezed Yaz’s arms— “and run with you. For as long as you’ll have me. For the rest of your life, if that’s what you want. I’m not ready to let you go. I’m sorry if that’s selfish, but I’m not. ‘Cause I’m in love with you, Yasmin Khan. I am properly in love with you. Is that okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Incredulous and dumbfounded and so, so happy, a fat tear tumbled from the lip of Yaz’s eyelid and raced towards her chin. Another followed. </p><p> </p><p>“Is that okay?” she laughed. “Doctor, you’re what I’ve been waitin’ for my whole life. That’s not an exaggeration. You don’t ever have to worry about lettin’ me go, ‘cause I won’t leave. You’d have to drag me out kickin’ and screamin’ now that I’ve finally got you back. I’m with you, remember? Forever. I love you. God, I love you. I’ve wanted to say that for so long.”</p><p> </p><p>Now the Doctor was laughing, too. Laughing and crying—just like Yaz. She wrapped her arms around Yaz and held her so tight the heels of her shoes lifted off the floor. Clinging desperately to the Doctor, Yaz buried her wet cheeks in the soft cotton of her jumper and relished in the firm, solid press of her body. </p><p> </p><p>And she breathed out, and she let something go. Something dark and painful she’d been living with for as long as she could remember. It was all of her loneliness. All of her grief. All of the ugliness that had made a home of her small body. </p><p> </p><p>She let it go and love took its place. </p><p> </p><p>When they drew back, they each did so without relinquishing their hold on the other. Yaz sniffled and the Doctor wiped a tear from her cheek with her thumb. She let her hand linger. </p><p> </p><p>“There’s actually somethin’ else I promised myself I’d do when I saw you again,” the Doctor confessed quietly. “But I… I don’t want to just…”</p><p> </p><p>“Touch me,” whispered Yaz. “Please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p> </p><p>“Only if you are.”</p><p> </p><p>The skin around the Doctor’s eyes crinkled with delight. “Never been more sure of anythin’ in my lives,” she proclaimed. </p><p> </p><p>Be that as it may, she looked a little nervous when she fixed her eyes on Yaz’s mouth and licked her lips. Haltingly, she moved closer and closer, like she wasn’t sure where or how to begin now that the moment had arrived. But if Yaz had learned one thing about herself through all this, it was that she was patient. For the Doctor, she’d wait a lifetime. </p><p> </p><p>As it transpired, it took far less than a lifetime for the Doctor’s mouth to find hers once more—when it did, Yaz knew beyond doubt that it would have been worth that and more. </p><p> </p><p>Unlike before, when the Doctor had been hurried and handsy and downright hungry, this time her kiss was nothing short of totally tender. Her cool lips held the flavour of peppermint toothpaste as they brushed leisurely against Yaz’s, exploring with purpose but not impatience. They had all the time in the universe, after all (because what was time but a slave to their desires; what was the universe but an infinite playground for the two of them, like great deities in the sky, to run through—hand in hand?). </p><p> </p><p>Yaz parted her lips for the Doctor’s tongue and she heeded the invitation with a soft purr, cradling Yaz’s face with impossible delicacy. It struck Yaz that she should be finding it absurd to be kissing her best friend, the alien who fell out of the sky; an ancient lord of time and a definite madwoman. And yet. </p><p> </p><p>Well. </p><p> </p><p>Nothing had ever felt so much like coming home. No, not like coming home—like building a new one from scratch. </p><p> </p><p>One of the Doctor’s hands slipped from Yaz’s cheek. Her fingers skirted down the lapel of her jacket and closed around the open zipper at the bottom. Leaning her forehead against Yaz’s, the Doctor peeled her lips away and glanced down with a heaving chest. </p><p> </p><p>“Um, d’you wanna—you don’t have to, obviously, but you’re wearin’ a lotta layers, and it’s kinda warm in here, and—“</p><p> </p><p>“So take ‘em off,” encouraged Yaz, endeared at the Doctor’s awkwardness. It was just so <em> her </em>. So familiar. “It’s okay, Doctor. I trust you. I want this just as much as you do. Maybe even a tiny bit more.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doubtful,” muttered the Doctor. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz smiled. “Prove it then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Challenge accepted, Khan.” The Doctor punctuated the sentence with a kiss on Yaz’s lips, sliding her hands beneath the shoulders of her jacket and helping her shrug out of it. It hit the floor with a thud. </p><p> </p><p>Next to come off was Yaz’s blouse, which the Doctor unbuttoned whilst pressing a series of chaste kisses to her jaw. Lacking for things to do with her hands, Yaz ran her fingers through the Doctor’s wavy hair. It was still a little knotted in parts—no doubt Yaz would have to force a brush through it later. For some reason, the notion made her breathe a silent laugh that could easily have been interpreted as a gasp when her shirt fell open and the Doctor splayed her cold fingers across her exposed stomach. </p><p> </p><p>“Off,” the Doctor murmured, closing her lips around Yaz’s earlobe and tugging with intent on the hem of her shirt. She followed the command with a polite, “Please.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz pulled the blouse off by its sleeves and slung it to one side. Only then did the Doctor’s focus fall south of Yaz’s throat. Down to her bra and jeans, Yaz’s abdomen and the curves of her cleavage were bared to the Doctor’s adoring gaze. The Doctor stalled. The only time Yaz had seen her so blatantly enamoured before was when she’d been gazing reverentially upon anti-matter. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I love it. Conceptually—and actually.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I never got you right,” mused the Doctor. “Not in all my wildest dreams. I never even came close, did I? ‘Cause look at you, Yaz. Look at you. You’re drop dead stunnin’.”</p><p> </p><p>Self-conscious, Yaz followed the Doctor’s line of sight towards her own body. Was she stunning? She’d never thought so, but when the Doctor said it so matter-of-fact like that, how could she dispute? </p><p> </p><p>Hooking a finger under Yaz’s chin, the Doctor lifted her head. “This is okay, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s more than okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“And is it okay if I ask you to sit on the bed?”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz nodded. </p><p> </p><p>“Good girl.”</p><p> </p><p>At once, heat prickled Yaz’s cheeks and the back of her neck. The Doctor must have noticed the darkening of her skin, because she tilted her head curiously. Still, she made no immediate comment. </p><p> </p><p>Once Yaz was seated on the edge of the bed, the Doctor stood over her and stroked her cheek with fondness. Their eyes locked through a heady fog and the Doctor danced her thumb across Yaz’s swollen lips. Her every touch left Yaz’s skin tingling and itching for more. With the way the Doctor was staring at her, it looked like she knew it. More than that, like she was reaping her own satisfaction from it. Turning Yaz on was turning her on. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor knelt down in front of her. </p><p> </p><p>Nimble-fingered, she plucked Yaz’s laces free with ease. The Doctor removed each of her boots in turn, followed by her socks, and then slid her hands up her legs. She positioned herself between Yaz’s thighs, that she could kiss her neck whilst she unfastened her jeans. </p><p> </p><p>Thus far, all the Doctor had done was kiss her, and yet Yaz couldn’t remember ever having been so aroused before. She wondered if that was normal, and then decided it didn’t matter anyway. What was normal anymore? A distant memory. Unimportant. </p><p> </p><p>Far more important was her flyer, which was now undone. The Doctor sat back on her calves and tugged Yaz’s jeans off, pupils flitting intermittently between her thighs as she went. Yaz was a little embarrassed to be wearing a lacy, little-to-the-imagination black number beneath her jeans, but she’d been running out of clean clothes and it was the only thing she could find in a pinch. The Doctor appeared less than dismayed.</p><p> </p><p>“Wear those for the occasion, did you?” teased the Doctor, pulling Yaz’s jeans off the rest of the way and discarding them on the floor. </p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” Yaz blushed. </p><p> </p><p>Smirking, the Doctor gently scratched the top of Yaz’s thighs with her clipped fingernails. Yaz domed a brow at them. She was positive the Doctor’s nails had been longer when she found her. Had she <em> just </em> clipped them? She must have, and the idea that one of the first things the Doctor had thought to do upon her escape was trim her nails so that she could touch Yaz was both bizarre and affecting. The Doctor’s fiercest urge had not been to eat or to rest, but to undress Yaz, put her hands on her; learn just how real she could really feel. </p><p> </p><p>“All those times you saw me,” murmured Yaz, transfixed by the back and forth motions of the Doctor’s nails grazing her legs, “did we ever do anythin’ like this?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. As I said, you were only ever there to hurt me.” The Doctor spared a look down between Yaz’s legs and the muscles in her cheek flexed. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve never thought about it, ‘cause I have. A lot. There were all these rooms in my head that I’d retreat into whenever I needed a little break from reality. You were behind a lot of those doors, Yaz. Most of ‘em, if I’m bein’ honest. Sometimes it were innocent. We were travellin’ the universe. Havin’ tea at yours. Stargazin’. Curled up on a sofa in the TARDIS’ second floor library with a good book, a warm fire, and one another’s company.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz swallowed harshly when the Doctor trailed a finger from the hollow of her throat, past her collarbone, and towards the swell of her breasts. She skirted the trim of Yaz’s bra but made no move to take it off. </p><p> </p><p>“And the other doors?” Yaz asked hoarsely. “What was behind those?”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor’s eyes flashed bright with mischief.</p><p> </p><p>“You first,” she sang. Ducking her mouth to Yaz’s shoulder, she peppered kisses from the top of her arm and inward towards the nave of her chest. Against her hot skin, the Doctor mumbled, “Tell me what’s behind your door, Yaz. When you lie in bed and want me, how exactly do you want me?”</p><p> </p><p>“I just <em> want </em> you.”</p><p> </p><p>“How?”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz darted her tongue across her lower lip and curled her hand around the back of the Doctor’s neck. Her breathing faltered when the Doctor began to suck on the soft flesh at the top of her breast, and she had to actively track down her detailed train of thought. What had they been talking about? </p><p> </p><p>Doors. </p><p> </p><p>Right. </p><p> </p><p>“Um. I guess—I guess I usually want you on top of me,” divulged Yaz. “It’s like I want you in control, but not ‘cause I need you to be in charge or anythin’, just ‘cause I trust you. And I want you to feel how I trust you. I want you to see it. Basically, Doctor, I just wanna please you. I just wanna make you happy.”</p><p> </p><p>A purple mark marred Yaz’s skin when the Doctor pulled away from her breast and looked up. Yaz couldn’t decipher the meaning behind her knitted brows and parted lips. Was she about to cry or kiss her breathless? </p><p> </p><p>“That’s easy, Yaz,” she said in the end. “Happy’s the easiest thing in the universe right now.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, the Doctor cupped Yaz’s chin and kissed her, and Yaz smiled bashfully into it. She curled her hands into the ribbed collar of the Doctor’s sweater and let her ease her onto her back with two clement hands at her shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>Blindly, Yaz shuffled backwards towards the centre of the bed and the Doctor chased her with an increasingly passionate kiss. She crawled on top of her body; ran her wandering hands up her sides. The instant they reached the band of her bra, Yaz arched her spine off the bed. The Doctor pulled no punches. In record time—and with only one hand—she unhooked Yaz’s bra, pulled it free of her arms, and sent it soaring across the room. </p><p> </p><p>Straddling Yaz’s naked waist, the Doctor sat back, drank her in, and blew out her cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>“Are we absolutely sure this isn’t a dream?” she wondered, drawing whirls around one of her breasts with her little finger. </p><p> </p><p>“Kinda feels like one, doesn’t it?” agreed Yaz. She held onto the Doctor by her waist and stroked her ribs with her thumbs; even through the thick material of the sweater, she could feel how pronounced her bones were. It concerned her. “You’re up for this, aren’t you? ‘Cause it’s totally fine if you aren’t. You’ve been through a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I have. And all I need right now, Yaz, is to not think about any of it. To just think about you and me in this bed together, and how unfairly gorgeous you are. Sound like a plan?”</p><p> </p><p>“One of your better ones.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oi. My plans are always brilliant. I’m the king of plans, me. Name one plan I had that didn’t pan out.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz laughed. “I can think of about a hundred.”</p><p> </p><p>Grumpy, the Doctor pursed her lips. “I’m gonna have to deduct some points for that, Khan.”</p><p> </p><p>“I—but I’m in the lead!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, y’can always earn ‘em back,” crooned a smug Doctor, lowering her head until her mouth hung right beside Yaz’s ear, “if you’re a really. Good. Girl.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” breathed Yaz. </p><p> </p><p>A half-moon grin eclipsed the Doctor’s face. If that had been a test, she was clearly ecstatic with the results. </p><p> </p><p>Half a second later, Yaz felt the Doctor’s hot tongue swirl the lobe of her ear. She sighed, fisting her hands into the waistband of the Doctor’s joggers when her wet kisses started their gradual descent. </p><p> </p><p>It was a little hard for Yaz to watch the Doctor kiss down her throat and chest so zealously, if only because it still bewildered her to think that, yes, this was the woman she’d always loved and nearly lost—right there on top of her, with her hand creeping towards one of her breasts and her warm mouth carving a path towards the other. But it became harder yet to watch the Doctor when her yellow sleeve rolled up a little to reveal a thin bracelet of bruises around her skinny wrist. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz bit the inside of her cheek. </p><p> </p><p><em> She doesn’t want to talk about it, </em> she told herself. <em> She needs distraction—and so do you.  </em></p><p> </p><p>This was true. It had been a long, hellish year, and Yaz had spent every waking moment of it wallowing in her countless miseries and taking stock of everything she’d lost. Now everything she’d lost had come back to her. </p><p> </p><p>So, yeah, she wanted to enjoy it. Just one night of mindless ecstasy, and they could deal with the real world tomorrow (if yesterday didn’t come first. Time machine, remember? They could bury themselves in ancient history and hide from tomorrow for as long as they needed. Or, if they wanted to, they could hide from tomorrow forever).</p><p> </p><p>Shelving her troubles became far easier when, yanking Yaz from an uneasy reverie, the Doctor closed her lips around a stiff, dusky nipple. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oh</em>,” gasped Yaz. With fluttering eyelids, she carded a hand through the Doctor’s hair, accidentally tugging her fingers through a knot when she felt teeth scrape her sensitive flesh. </p><p> </p><p>Mouth full of Yaz’s breast, the Doctor hummed her unashamed enjoyment. She attentively teased a hard peak against the tip of her tongue whilst palming at Yaz’s free breast with all the urgency of a teenage boy feeling up his high school crush for the first time behind the gym. Her urgency could be overlooked, however, because her directedness was second to none. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz couldn’t say how she did it—years of practice, perhaps—but every last one of the Doctor’s inflictions, down to each slight flick of her tongue or twist of her fingers, made her breath catch, her stomach jump, and her gut simmer with arousal. </p><p> </p><p>There was no doubt about it: Yaz was in capable hands with the Doctor. </p><p> </p><p>After she’d paid each of Yaz’s breasts their fair due, and left a handful of marks on the tender flesh of them, the Doctor pulled wetly away from a thoroughly tingling nipple with a perverse <em> pop </em>and fixed a pair of desperately wanton eyes on Yaz. </p><p> </p><p>Without breaking eye contact, she inched a hand down Yaz’s abdomen and past her pelvis. The way they watched one another so closely in the claustrophobic silence was at once intense and exhilaratingly intimate. The Doctor’s hand only stopped its advance once her fingertips brushed the waistband of Yaz’s lingerie. </p><p> </p><p>“Can I?” </p><p> </p><p>“Please do.”</p><p> </p><p>Sitting back to kneel beside Yaz’s calves, the Doctor pinched the gauzy fabric of her underwear between her fingers and began to peel them down her legs. She stared intently at her hands as she went, and didn’t indulge herself with a single glance between Yaz’s thighs until she’d untangled the damp material from around her ankles. </p><p> </p><p>But when she did, oh, the face she made. Yaz could pinpoint the precise moment her hearts began to flail; heard how her breathing shallowed out and saw the way her jaw slackened just a touch. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” She bunched Yaz’s underwear in her hand and swallowed. She was so <em> affected</em>. “Oh, you’re already soakin’. Wow.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz suddenly didn’t know what to do be doing with her hands, or where she should be looking. It hadn’t sunk in for her until right then that she was <em> naked </em> in front of the Doctor; that the Doctor held her sopping thong in her hands; that they were about to have sex. Less than a day ago, she thought the Doctor was probably dead.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I… it’s just… it’s just you, I think,” stammered Yaz. “I can’t help it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” husked the Doctor. She dropped Yaz’s underwear and repositioned herself until she was straddling one of her legs and lying half on top of her—chest to chest and face to face. “I have wanted you for so long, Yasmin Khan. I don’t think you even understand the gift you’re givin’ me right now, and I’m not just on about your body—although I’m extremely thankful for that, too. It’s just… I never thought I’d have you like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“I never thought you’d want me like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you’re one of the good ones.” The Doctor traced Yaz’s hairline and shook her head, as if she was still reluctant to believe that her own mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. “Better than good. So much better than good.”</p><p> </p><p>“So are you, Doctor,” offered Yaz. “You’re incredible.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good’s different. It’s harder to be good than it is to be incredible.” </p><p> </p><p>“And somehow you manage both.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor breathed a soft laugh through her nose, but the outermost edges of her mouth remained weighed down by subdued melancholy. </p><p> </p><p>Not wanting the moment to take a turn, or else a spiral, into morose territory, Yaz locked her arms together behind the Doctor’s neck and bumped their noses together. “Y’know, I’m pretty thankful, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“For what?”</p><p> </p><p>“For the fact that I get to do this.” </p><p> </p><p>Yaz touched her lips to the Doctor’s a few times; each meeting of mouths was more delicate and, in some ways, more profound than the last. There was a rawness to their chastity, and an immense relief in the quiet sigh that escaped the Doctor’s lips during the third or fourth featherlight kiss. </p><p> </p><p>“Stay out of your head,” Yaz drawled against the Doctor’s mouth. “I know what it’s like in there.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor moaned softly in response, pressing her knee against Yaz’s crotch and kissing her deeper when she grunted at the pressure between her legs. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I love… how responsive... you are,” she lauded breathily through their kiss. </p><p> </p><p>The notion that Yaz was pleasing the Doctor by merely reacting to her touches only spurred her on further. Where usually she would rein in her natural responses to gratification to avoid embarrassment, this time she didn’t hold herself back in the slightest. The Doctor leaned all her weight into her knee and Yaz rutted against it with a quiet whine, all too aware of the visible exhibit of her own rapture she left behind on the Doctor’s grey sweatpants. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” the Doctor cursed around Yaz’s tongue. </p><p> </p><p>If the Doctor was swearing, Yaz knew for a fact that she must be getting worked up; she could count on one hand the number of times she’d heard the Doctor curse before. Today, she intended to remedy that. </p><p> </p><p>Pulling away just to regard the damp patch on her joggers, the Doctor groaned—low and rough—and betrayed her arousal like that. It made Yaz’s heart kick. </p><p> </p><p>Skin flushed, the Doctor looked down at Yaz with wildly blown pupils. “For me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Who else?”</p><p> </p><p>“...I love you so much, Yaz.”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you more.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not about this.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor smoothed over one of Yaz’s eyebrows with her thumb. She gazed upon her like a setting sun gazes upon the water, which is to say, she dappled her in warmth and gold and made of her a beautiful thing. And it was beautiful, wasn’t it? To be loved by the Doctor was beautiful. </p><p> </p><p>“Thanks for comin’ for me, Yaz,” uttered the Doctor. </p><p> </p><p>“Always,” vowed Yaz.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Glad you said that, actually,” the Doctor admitted with a wriggle of her eyebrows, “‘cause I’d quite like to make you come again right now, if it’s perfectly alright with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Smooth.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think so.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz suppressed a laugh at the Doctor’s sincerity. “Well, it’s perfectly alright with me, Doctor. I’ve just got one condition.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anythin’,” the Doctor said without missing a beat. “Anythin’ in the whole universe.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t stop kissing me.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor blinked slowly. She reached for Yaz’s face with both hands and, when she spoke next, she did so with startlingly manic zeal and both the ambiguity and the lightheartedness flayed from her voice. In their stead: devotion. </p><p> </p><p>“Never.”</p><p> </p><p>A low rumble rose from Yaz’s chest when the Doctor made good on her promise and carried her away on another hurricane of a kiss. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz allowed the Doctor to push her legs apart and bend one of her knees. She felt like clay in her hands; putty to be moulded into whatever the Doctor most desired. And she was living for it. </p><p> </p><p>Catching Yaz’s lower lip between her teeth, the Doctor pulled on it and stared Yaz down. Electricity fizzed in the charged air between them. This was the moment. Yaz thought she was ready—thought she’d <em> been </em> ready long before their chaotic reunion. As it turned out, nothing could have prepared her for what it actually felt like to be touched by the Doctor. </p><p> </p><p>To begin with, all she did was run her fingers through her. Unhurried. Experimental. They came away shiny and wet. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor’s composure wavered and her next shaky breath landed warm on Yaz’s chin. It was charming, in a way, to think that the only thing that could swerve the unswervable Time Lord existed between Yaz’s thighs. </p><p> </p><p>Apparently realising how blatantly overwhelmed she seemed, the Doctor smiled apologetically at Yaz.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry. ‘S’been a while, is all, and you’re just so…” the Doctor trailed off with a crude gesture at Yaz’s crotch. </p><p> </p><p>Amused, Yaz tilted her head. “I’m just so what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you’re definitely happy to see me, eh?” The Doctor laughed awkwardly and then cleared her throat. “Sorry. Not really for the time for jokes, I s’pose. I’ll be gettin’ on with it now.”</p><p> </p><p>And so she did. </p><p> </p><p>Without a further word of warning, the Doctor ducked her mouth to Yaz’s neck, attached her lips to her frantic pulse, and eased a finger into the velvety warmth of her. Yaz gasped when she slid all the way inside without friction, digging her hands into the Doctor’s shoulders to brace herself. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, you feel—you feel brilliant,” the Doctor grunted. </p><p> </p><p>She pulled her finger part-way out, and then plunged back in with two. A strained moan clawed its way up Yaz’s throat and she tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling with an open mouth and tightly pinched brows. </p><p> </p><p>Then, whilst sucking ardently on her neck, the Doctor started to fuck Yaz in earnest. </p><p> </p><p>Her fingers pumped fast and deep inside her and, each time she crooked or rubbed them against her walls, Yaz moaned loud beside her ear and keened into her touch. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor’s hands had always been a marvel to Yaz: deft, skilful, slender, inventive. Fortunately, they were no less inventive when nestled in the tight valley between Yaz’s legs. They invented whole new sensations; whole new worlds and galaxies and universes of pleasure. They found their way around Yaz like they had a map and an adventurer’s sensibility. It didn’t even seem plausible that she should be able to make Yaz feel the things she was feeling with her fingers alone. Was it an alien thing? An experience thing? A Doctor thing? </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Who cares? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” Yaz cried when the Doctor squeezed a third finger inside her; blowing her expectations wide open only to supersede them by a marathon’s span. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor moaned when another wave of arousal submerged her fast fingers. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re doin’ so well, Yaz,” she panted, teething on the patch of skin below Yaz’s ear and brushing her tongue over the indents she left behind. “How’s it feel? How’s it feel to have me inside you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t—I can’t think of a single word that’d do it justice,” Yaz admitted joltingly. </p><p> </p><p>“Want more?”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s—oh, <em> Doctor</em>—there’s more?”</p><p> </p><p>Unabating between her legs, the Doctor kissed along Yaz’s jaw and made her way gradually towards her mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“Mm-hm,” she confirmed. “Everythin’ you’re feelin’ right now? I can make you feel it five times harder. Y’just need to trust me, Yaz. Can you do that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do it.”</p><p> </p><p>The next time the Doctor drove her fingers inside Yaz, she did so with their tongues brushing together and a thumb pressed to Yaz’s temple. There followed a slight pressure, a webbing crack in the barriers of Yaz’s mind, and then a world-shattering influx of pure sensation bursting in like a flood through a broken dam. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz moaned so loud it might as well have been a scream. </p><p> </p><p>Every nerve, every cell, every subatomic molecule of her body suddenly became infinitely more sensitive to the Doctor’s touch. The Doctor’s fingers pounded rapidly into her and she felt not like a person to Yaz, but a miracle; a fountain of unfettered euphoria from which Yaz drank and drank and drank. In turn, she got wetter, and in turn, the Doctor swore for the third time and kissed her so vehemently Yaz thought her lips would bruise. Not that it mattered. </p><p> </p><p>Somehow, Yaz’s hands had found their way beneath the Doctor’s jumper. She hardly had enough lucidity to realise she was raking her nails harshly against the skin of the Doctor’s back; only clocking on when the Doctor groaned and deepened the reach of her fingers. Yaz hadn’t known that was possible. </p><p> </p><p>Even their kisses were devastating like this; the Doctor’s hot tongue and bright red lips inundated Yaz with fire and primal lust. She could feel all of her—everywhere. </p><p> </p><p>Not just her fingers and her mouth, but the fibres of her clothes rubbing against her electrified skin; the stiffness of her nipples pressing into Yaz’s chest; how hot her crotch was against Yaz’s thigh. Everything was heightened. Everything was heaven. </p><p> </p><p>Each time the Doctor pumped her fingers inside her, the heel of her palm slammed against her clit. Before, it had been a pleasant accompaniment to the Doctor’s afflictions. Now, it was fatal. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Doctor</em>,” Yaz cried. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t—don’t stop.” Yaz dug her nails into the back of the Doctor’s shoulders with animal ferocity and whined when she dragged her teeth softly along the dip of her neck. “Fuck, please don’t stop.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor bit down on Yaz’s neck with next to no force, but Yaz felt it as if her teeth were sinking into her muscle like a hot knife through butter. It was unhinging. Yaz moaned the Doctor’s name again and again—or was she crying out to a god? They might well have been one and the same. </p><p> </p><p>“How close are you?” the Doctor asked gruffly, shouldering a sheen of sweat from her forehead. </p><p> </p><p>“So close,” rasped Yaz. “So, so close.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor licked her lips. “You gonna be a good girl and come for me, Yaz? You gonna let me see how pretty you look when you come undone?”</p><p> </p><p>All Yaz could manage was a desperate nod. Right then, it felt like she’d never wanted anything more than she wanted to come by the Doctor’s miraculous hands. This want made her delirious. It made her blind to everything except the Doctor’s lecherous gaze; naive to the existence of anything else in all of time and space except the woman on top of her and the hand buried between her thighs. </p><p> </p><p>And then her thumb found her clit. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz’s whole body jerked at the sudden contact; she wasn’t responsible for, or really aware of, the noise she made when the Doctor began to swiftly rub her swollen bud of magnified nerves whilst curling her adept fingers against her innermost walls. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m so proud of you, Yaz,” the Doctor whispered into Yaz’s ear. “You’ve done so well, haven’t you? You’ve been amazin’.”</p><p> </p><p>Goosebumps rose across every inch of Yaz’s skin. It might have been the praise, it might have been the sensation of the Doctor’s warm breath against the shell of her ear; it might have been the honey-sweet register she spoke in. Probably, it was a combination of all factors. </p><p> </p><p>“Please,” Yaz moaned. </p><p> </p><p>“Please what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just—please. <em> Please</em>. Oh, god.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor’s hand was a blur between Yaz’s legs and her face was set with dogged concentration. Yaz grabbed her by her face and smacked their mouths gracelessly together—whimpering, because she was nearing the peak of the mountainous pressure building inside of her. It gripped her by the bones, this thing. It engulfed mind and body alike, and all she could think to do about it was kiss the Doctor more sincerely than she’d ever kissed or been kissed before. </p><p> </p><p>“Three…” the Doctor mumbled. The thumb at Yaz’s clit pressed down harder at the same moment the thumb at her temple did. </p><p> </p><p>“Two…”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz was hanging onto resolve by a fraying thread. All she knew now, all she perceivably had ever known, was pleasure. She was up to her neck in it. Her chin. Mouth. Nose. It was going to take her, and she was going to let it. </p><p> </p><p>“One.”</p><p> </p><p>Let it, she did.</p><p> </p><p>With a jarred, guttural moan, Yaz’s hips flew from the sheets and the Doctor chased them with her unforgiving fingers. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz came, but it didn’t feel like coming. It felt like falling. </p><p> </p><p>Falling forever through moons and stars—their shimmering light of white and gold streaked her periphery like brushstrokes of the universe painting a cosmic tapestry in motion around her.</p><p> </p><p>Falling through the folds of time—what was now, what was then, when was the past and when was the future? </p><p> </p><p>Falling eternal—there was no beginning and there was no end. There was only the Doctor. </p><p> </p><p>Falling in love. </p><p> </p><p>All the while, the Doctor watched her fall. She was both the air rushing rapidly past her ears and the arms outstretched and waiting to catch her. And catch her she did. </p><p> </p><p>Once Yaz had no voice left to cry out with, no strength left to clutch at the Doctor with, no air left to breathe with, she slumped weakly into the sweat-soaked sheets. The Doctor was fast to withdraw from her mind, peeling her thumb from Yaz’s temple and holding her face (so gentle) when her eyelids fluttered open. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” the Doctor crooned. “Hey, Yaz. Are you all right? Sorry, I kinda forgot to warn you how intense that can be. My bad.”</p><p> </p><p>One by one, Yaz’s senses swam back to her, but it wasn’t immediate. She had to fish them out of the water with her bare hands; they were slippery and elusive and resistant to capture at first. </p><p> </p><p>“That,” she murmured foggily, “was definitely not ordinary.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um. In a good way or a bad way?”</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor, that’s the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. Bloody hell, it’s probably the best I’ll ever have again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hope not,” frowned the Doctor. “Personally, I think I can do better. Bit rusty, is all.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz laughed incredulously. “If that’s you out of commission, I can’t wait to see what you can do with all systems running. Shit. How come you never told me you can do that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oddly enough, Yaz,” smiled the Doctor, massaging her fingers through the fine hairs at the back of Yaz’s neck, “it’s never come up in conversation before. Glad y’liked it, though. Nice big ego boost for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, I more than liked it.” Yaz cupped the Doctor’s face and kissed her kindly through a blissful haze as yet to dissipate. “I loved it.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor smiled humbly. </p><p> </p><p>“I can, um…” Yaz ran her hands down the Doctor’s sides. “I can return the favour. I mean, it won’t be as good as what you just did, but I can give it a good old Yorkshire try.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, Yaz, but this were just about you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure? ‘Cause, like, I really do wanna pay you back. So much.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor peeled one of Yaz’s hands from her waist and laced their fingers together, bringing her knuckles to her lips.</p><p> </p><p>Between them, she promised, “Another time.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz nodded. “Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>The truth was, though what they’d just done was phenomenal, it had also sapped all the energy from her. Physically and mentally. She resisted a yawn, but the Doctor could be ever-so-perceptive when she wanted to be. </p><p> </p><p>“Tired?” </p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t you?” asked Yaz. “I saw the state of that thing you’ve been sleepin’ on. You must miss havin’ a proper bed to kip in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you have no idea,” the Doctor sighed, eyeing the bed with no shortage of longing. </p><p> </p><p>Yaz squeezed the Doctor’s hand. “Bed?”</p><p> </p><p>“Bed.”</p><p> </p><p>Without bothering to undress, the Doctor peeled back the duvet and they climbed beneath it together. Yaz crawled into the Doctor’s open arms, laying her head on her chest and draping an arm across her stomach. The Doctor stroked Yaz’s hair and didn’t close her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“You will talk to me, won’t you?” Yaz asked in a small, nervous voice. “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me what happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“I will,” said the Doctor. </p><p> </p><p>Careful as could be, Yaz picked up the Doctor’s wrist and edged the sleeve down. The bruising was still sore and fresh. Rather than probe, Yaz delicately brushed her thumb over the damaged skin and then kissed it. The Doctor’s breathing caught. Yaz looked up. </p><p> </p><p>She was crying. </p><p> </p><p>“Doctor?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, I—“</p><p> </p><p>“No, please, don’t apologise.” </p><p> </p><p>Yaz propped herself up on her elbow and pressed a palm to the Doctor’s wet cheek. The Doctor leaned into her touch gratefully. </p><p> </p><p>“What is it?” </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve missed you, Yaz. Missin’ you was the worst of it, it really was,” professed the Doctor, dewy-eyed and fragile. “And I’m scared that, if I fall asleep, I’m gonna open my eyes again and you won’t be here. I don’t think I could survive that. Not after this.”</p><p> </p><p>Yaz’s bruised heart broke a little more. “That’s never gonna happen, Doctor.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t tell.” Another tear slipped from the corner of the Doctor’s eye and her jaw trembled. “I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and it’s terrifyin’.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, listen to me,” urged Yaz, “it’s day one, okay? Things might be like this for a while, but all we can do is take it one day at a time. And every day that passes, we’ll be one day closer to okay again. And after okay comes good. After good comes the rest of our future—and it’s gonna be so wonderful, Doctor. You and me, we’re gonna be wonderful. We just might have to work to get there.”</p><p> </p><p>“What if you get tired of all the work?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re worth it. You’re worth all of it and more, and I need you to hear that. Tell me you do.”</p><p> </p><p>Uncertain, the Doctor pressed her fingers to Yaz’s pulse. After thirteen heartbeats, she nodded. “I hear you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then trust me. Please trust me. I’ll be right here when you wake up. I’ll even cook you breakfast in the mornin’, how’s that sound? Whatever you like. I basically stocked up on every sugary thing I could get my hands on.”</p><p> </p><p>“Waffles?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pancakes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Those, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ice cream?”</p><p> </p><p>“For breakfast?”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor pouted and Yaz softened with an affectionate roll of her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Ice cream, too,” she relented. “Tubs of the stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>Following a deep, wavering breath, the Doctor’s muscles began to relax and the tension, like a razor sharp wire, constructing Yaz’s chest eased—if only slightly. She kissed the Doctor’s cheek and rested her head against her shoulder once more. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m right here,” she reiterated. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t even think I can stand to be away from you in my dreams.”</p><p> </p><p>“So don’t,” said Yaz. “Follow me into mine.”</p><p> </p><p>“But… what if all my angst gives you nightmares?”</p><p> </p><p>“Then we’ll just weather them together.”</p><p> </p><p>“They might be awful.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been through worse.”</p><p> </p><p>“...Yaz?”</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so happy to be home.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re not even on your TARDIS.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not what I meant,” yawned the Doctor. She kissed Yaz’s crown and held her close, finding a comfortable cove in the depths of her sleepy head in which to settle down beside her. “Not even a little bit.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find me on tumblr: freefallthirteen</p></blockquote></div></div>
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